No One Ever Does
by mewling
Summary: [Nonexplicit Yuri] [SakuTema] It's always hard to end things. It's harder still when you don't really know how they began.


series**naruto**  
rated**K**  
warnings**angst**,**OOC**  
words**846**  
by**mewling**

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**No One Ever Does (One and Two) **

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A/N: A non-sexual (not really, anyway) shoujo-ai. That's why it's so boring. I remembered Sakura's flashback with long, long hair.  
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**X: Deftly**

There are no cherry blossom trees in Suna.

Temari is reminded of this as she runs her fingers through Sakura's pale pink hair. Their roots, she notices, are a slightly darker shade of pink, and she wonders how such a hair colour is possible.

She twists the ends of Sakura's hair in her fingers, so they face upwards. Her kunai, freshly honed, is sharper than any pair of hair scissors. She nicks the edge of her hair upwards, trimming it intentionally ragged.

"How long will you be here?" Sakura is sitting with the interminable patience and ram-rod straight back of any good ninja.

"I don't know," is Temari's reply, slightly muffled by the kunai clenched between her teeth. She tugs on both sides of Sakura's damp hair, to ascertain its symmetry. "As long as the exam, I suppose."

Sakura's hair has grown nearly six centimetres since Temari last saw her. It has grown way out since the last Chuunin exams; she vaguely remembers seeing a pink haired girl with hair somewhere near this length before the exams. Her hair –or parts of it, now- falls long down the green towel draped across her shoulders. The green and pink is a pretty combination –like her eyes and hair- but Temari doesn't say so. It's not in her nature.

Long strands of her hair are falling to the ground, in clumps, and in rapid succession. Temari has decided to take Sakura's instruction –'Cut it roughly, and short. Don't style'- at face value. If she had wanted someone to be gentle and painstaking, she knew she shouldn't have asked Temari.

The quick shortening of Sakura's hair reveals hickeys on the back of Sakura's neck and creeping downwards. Temari smirks instantly in self satisfaction. She knows she shouldn't treat Sakura as a doll or some pet (their relationship's too casual, right?) but it's hard not to. For all purposes she owns Sakura. Yesterday, she was even able to goad her into skipping medic lessons to play somewhere private.

"It's been nearly two and a half years, hasn't it?"

"Yes," her voice is calm. Temari wonders what face she's wearing. "That's why."

Temari's eyebrow shoots up before she can stop it; it's a good thing Sakura can't see. Expecting this, Sakura mutters a reply. It's something about 'memory' and 'recognition', but Temari can't quite catch all the words.

It doesn't matter, because her stomach is swooping oddly in an unhappy feeling, and she's sure she knows what Sakura means to say.

**X: Whisper**

They lie together afterwards. Sakura is facing Temari's feet for some reason; she can't quite remember how she got there.

It has been at least half an hour since they finished, but neither of them can sleep. One of them is nervous. The other is angry.

It's their 'last night'. They both knew it would come to this; in retrospect, they probably should have spent it as friends, not as lovers.

But Temari's eager to deny, and Sakura is disposed to comfort others. Temari knows that Sakura is going, leaving to chase Sasuke. Today she leaves the shelter of the Sand. Today Temari looses her excuse to follow.

Sakura's calf stretches before her, taunt with anxiety. Her toes twitch. Temari can always tell Sakura's awake by her toes.

"I'm going."

Sakura's other foot reaches up to scratch her calf self-consciously. It occurs to Temari that she's not surprised Sakura waited until they weren't face to face before she began this conversation. Temari suspects it's partly because of Sakura's shorn hair spread across her pillow in the pre-dawn moonlight, and partly due to the fact Naruto and Kakashi are packing noisily next door.

"I have to save those two." She shifts restlessly, wanting to leave. Temari's mouth is dry. She never thought she'd be the one thrown about in a relationship. Sakura had seemed so gentle and girlish; Temari supposes there's a lot to Sakura that is hidden.

Lying there, thoughts are spinning slowly through Temari's mind, trying to settle and find purpose and position. She can't keep Sakura here, that is for sure. Even if they somehow chance together again, their relationship will never be the same. There is nothing but change.

What can she do…?

Suddenly, Sakura gets up, her movements quick and decisive. She dresses and packs while Temari watches, the older girl deep in thought. Sakura makes to go to the entrance, and is halted. Even though she's used to it, Sakura can't help but gasp and turn around. Not quite believing until she sees.

Temari digs her nails harder into Sakura's calf, blood welling around the crescent shaped wounds. Sakura is silent, but Temari knows it is only because she is stunned. "Wha…"

Temari licks the blood off the tips of her fingers, eyes focussed on the marks she has made, not Sakura's face.

"_Don't' ever forget me …," _she says.

Sakura smiles grimly, her eyes still wide and startled. She opens the door and leaves, shutting it quietly behind her.

The room is cold in the pre-dawn light.

"Don't leave me alone," Temari whispers.

But nobody hears her.

No one ever does.

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